This is a side story about how Caden and Ava met, NOT a continuation of the current story. It's not intended to be particularly "spicy," I just wrote it for fun!
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Caden first met Ava at one of the handful of bars in town. She seemed anxious sitting there on the back patio, sipping her drink quickly, fidgeting with her ponytail, pulling her dress down over her knees, and checking her phone often while a local who was well known for his wandering hands scooted closer to her. She didn't know about Andrew Dowers's reputation. She was new. She was fresh meat. She was easy.
Caden only glanced at her from his table, the same way he glanced at people who walked by or moved around a lot: seeing but not acknowledging.
When Ava finished her drink, she stood up, grabbed her empty glass, and headed inside. Andrew followed her, and Caden didn't think about her again--she was about to be just one more notch in the jackass's belt. He reluctantly did a couple of shots with his friends to congratulate one of them on his new job, and after some time went back inside and headed up the hallway to buy the next obligatory round.
He was a bit surprised to see Andrew--alone and angry--stumble past him down the hall towards the patio again, holding a hand over one side of his mouth. He watched him burst through the door into the chilly night air, and when it slammed shut, the door to the ladies' room in the hall cracked open.
Ava peeked out, eyes wide in a fearful expression he would see aimed at himself a couple years later.
"Are you alright?" Caden asked, removing his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. When she shook her head, he glanced at the patio door and nodded to her. "I think you're in the clear," he said. "He went out back again."
She timidly opened the door and swayed a little. "I don't like that guy," she said, slurred.
He gave her a half smile. "Yeah, he's pretty terrible." His smile disappeared as quickly as it came when she stepped out into the hallway. From what he remembered, she hadn't been stumbling when she walked inside, but now she was struggling to keep her balance. It wasn't that long ago that she had left the patio, was it? He wouldn't put it past Andrew to slip something in a girl's drink.
She crossed the hall and leaned against the wall beside him.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
Before she could answer, the back door flew open again. Andrew stood in the doorway, turning back to yell at someone laughing outside.
Ava grabbed the front of Caden's shirt, suddenly alert. "Help me," she whispered. Her blue eyes shined with a curious mix of desperation and demand. "Don't let that fucking creep see me."
Caden shouldn't have done what he did next. He should have handled it differently. He should have taken her straight to the front of the bar, told the bartender, maybe even called the police. He should have listened to the little voice warning him in the back of his mind. But he did none of those things; he just made a split second decision. She wouldn't remember the next few seconds, but from then on out they would play over and over in his head every time he saw her.
He brought his arm up and rested his elbow on the wall next to her, shielding most of her face with his upper arm and shoulder, closing her in between the wall and his body. With his other hand, he reached around her head to her ponytail and quickly but gently slid the tie away so that her hair fell around her shoulders.
She stiffened, suddenly aware of the potential dangers of a total stranger looming over her so intimately, but she didn't move away.
"It's alright," he said warmly. "I won't do anything." He placed his baseball cap on her head and wiggled it down over her hair.
Andrew turned back into the hallway and stumbled past them, muttering to himself. At the end of the hall he stopped and looked back at them.
Caden slid his hand over Ava's cheek and tilted her head towards him, hiding the other side of her face.
Her eyes widened and her hands jerked up to his chest to push him away. "Don't," she said firmly, despite her drunkenness.
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. He wasn't used to hearing that word from women, and something about it excited a small, dark part of him. "I won't," he promised. He stole a glance over her head at Andrew, who stood there staring at them, squinting as he swayed back and forth, still cupping the side of his mouth.
Damn, he really is a creep.
"He's watching us," Caden whispered.
Ava hesitated, then cursed under her breath. She reached up and shyly wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned a little closer to him, turned her head a little more to him, let his hand slide down her dress to her waist to keep her steady as she rose up onto her toes to meet him. "Don't move," she warned again. "This is just for show."
The brim of his hat pushed up between them as she brought her face closer to his, close enough that their noses touched. The smell of alcohol was so strong he could almost taste it in the small space of air between them, but beneath that there was something sweet and crisp, and beneath that still, something faint and rawly feminine. The dark part of him stirred.
Just for show,
he repeated in his mind as she pulled her fingers lightly through his hair. Who the hell was this woman?
Fortunately, Dowers was drunk enough not to recognize her, or maybe he just didn't care anymore. He disappeared around the corner, but Caden waited a few seconds--just to be sure, that's all--before he pushed away from the wall. He supported her as she dropped down from her toes. "The tiptoes were a nice touch," he said, letting her hold on to his fingers as she stumbled back just a little. "Very cute."
And she was cute. At first glance he could have passed her off as plain among all of the made up faces and perfectly curled hair, but there truly was a natural sort of radiance about her. No wonder Dowers was pursuing her so persistently.
"Thank you," she said with a proud, cute grin, and then promptly bent over and threw up on the floor between them.
She insisted she felt fine after that and could manage on her own, but he walked her to the front of the bar anyway. He helped her close her tab, gave her a cup of water, told the bartender that Dowers had thrown up in the back, and then walked her outside.
"Thanks for the awkward save," she said, her words slurring together. She plopped down on the curb, spilling her water but holding his hat to her head. "That guy wouldn't leave me alone--he put my hand right on his crotch! Who does that? I'll tell you who: that guy. And you know who punches a guy in the face for that kind of stuff? This girl." She nodded, satisfied with her solo conversation, and pulled out her phone.
Caden sat beside her, unsure of what to say at first. "Did he..." he paused. "How many drinks have you had?"
She shrugged. "Just one, I think. I'm a lightweight tonight, I guess, but at least it was free." She glanced up at him. "That's why I only punched him once."
One drink... How long had she been there, sobering up? Lightweight or not, she shouldn't be feeling so drunk--she seemed drunker than just a few minutes ago, in fact. Andrew Dowers had fucking roofied her.
The dark part of him flickered again, but he cleared it from his mind. He was the good guy. He
had
to be the good guy. "You should call a friend," he said.
"They all live really far away, like two hours." She turned to him in sudden anger. "What kind of hick town is this?" she demanded, holding up her phone. "You don't even have Uber here?" She put her phone away and sighed. "Guess I'm gonna walk home."
He stood up and helped her to her feet. Christ, she could barely stand on her own. "I'll walk with you," he said. "Where do you live?"
She pointed to the right, frowned, then pointed to the left. "That way. Princeton Road."
He let out a surprised laugh. "You're going to walk ten miles, out in the middle of nowhere, by yourself, in the middle of the night?" He shook his head and wrapped an arm around her waist. "That's not happening," he said lightly, grabbing her hand to loop her arm around his neck.
He walked her back inside, sent another round of shots to his friends on the patio, and then they left the bar. The bartender didn't question Caden's intentions. He knew he was a good guy. He
had
to be a good guy.
Caden should have taken her to the police, or perhaps the hospital. He didn't know what or how much Dowers had slipped into her drink. But he wasn't thinking about that in the moment. Instead, he walked--more like dragged--her to his truck. He easily lifted her in and helped her buckle herself.
